SICK OF MYSELF - Mark Reviews Movies

Sick of Myself, Utopia

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 12, 2023

In Sick of Myself, a young woman cannot deal with idea of not being the center of attention. Is this a case of pure narcissism, a sign of the times, the psychological effects of a bad childhood, or all of the above? Does it really matter, especially when the results are as pointed and darkly funny as writer/director Kristoffer Borgli's comedy?

Borgli's film is a social satire, not only about how the contemporary society has created and fostered generations of people who believe they should be famous and a culture that makes it easier to do so, but also how readily we actually indulge such tendencies and make the fame possible in the first place. There is very, very little that's interesting or sympathetic about Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp), the 20-something protagonist of this story, and that's a major part of Borgli's point. We have no reason to watch or care about anything that she does, except for the fact that she has convinced herself that everyone should watch and care about everything she does, says, and thinks.

The obvious joke of the film is on her, as Signe takes her need to be noticed and admired and adored to an absurd and intentionally dangerous extreme. The real joke, though, might be on everyone who actually gives her that attention and affection—not only because they fall for her schemes so easily, but also because it makes them feel good about themselves to find so much pity for such a seemingly unfortunate soul as Signe.

There's nothing particularly unfortunate about this young woman, of course. She has a fairly decent, if ordinary and insignificant, life. She's dating an up-and-coming artist named Thomas (Eirik Sæther), whose pieces are created from cheaply purchased or outright stolen chairs. The two are introduced eating at a fancy restaurant, and it quickly becomes clear that this is a dine-and-dash situation in the making.

As that scene unfolds, a few other things about Signe become clear, too. First, she resents being told what to do, and second, she's oddly offended when Thomas receives all of the attention from skipping out on the bill at the restaurant. The waiter runs right past Signe without even noticing her, as if she'd rather be stopped or chased or even arrested than to go unnoticed.

She's like this all the time—hanging out with Thomas (who's a narcissist in his own right, particularly in how he constantly belittles his girlfriend), at parties, spending time with friends. There's always a story, even if it's a lie (At one point, someone points out Signe once said she was missing a toe, only to deny ever saying that when she wore sandals, and this, by the way, is a scene in she imagines being called out, meaning she's fully aware of her mendacity). There's always an angle to enter a conversation and turn it to be about her, even if that means inventing a nut allergy just so people keep her in their periphery while she eats.

The turning point for Signe arrives when she helps a woman who is bitten by a dog outside of the coffee shop where she works. She becomes a momentary hero, and if we think maybe doing something good for another person might be the revelation for Signe, that would be entirely wrong. Instead, she wants that moment of heroism to last, essentially, and the injured woman gives her the perfect angle for that, because, before anyone cared about Signe helping her, everyone was looking at the woman bleeding from her face.

One might have an idea where this is heading, especially when Signe finds a dog waiting for its owner on the sidewalk and starts taunting it to bite her. She doesn't get what she wants, thankfully (One is probably more worried about what would happen to the poor dog at this point), but that only means devising a new scheme. The one Signe settles on involves a Russian anxiety medication that's causing an inexplicable skin condition to develop in its users, and yes, Borgli gradually takes the effects of her constant use of the drug to extremes even more grotesque than the ones established at the start.

The severity of what happens to Signe, as well as the way her friends and even complete strangers try to treat her as if nothing is amiss with her, is a significant reason why the humor works as well as it does here. Borgli shows himself to be a keen satirist with this film—one who knows that sweeping statements about society and people need over-the-top circumstances to make such truths slightly easier to bear. Within Signe's self-induced predicament, there's a lot of uneasy truth about how addictive attention—especially on a large scale, as the internet and social media in particular make possible—can be.

Along the way, Borgli sneaks in some observations about the possible causes of what could be driving Signe's narcissism, with her absent father being a traumatic thorn in her psyche, but it's only enough for us to understand a little more about the character. Any kind of genuine sympathy, which she's incapable of earning, would ruin the gag.

As for Bogli's other targets of ridicule, some of them don't hit anywhere near as successfully as the portrait of its central narcissist (A subplot revolving around alternative medicine feels both too easy and too separated from the material). As Signe's fame rises because nobody questions her or her motives or the wisdom of making her the public face of anything, though, the real point of Sick of Myself becomes apparent. She only becomes a hero because so many people let her become one, because all of them, in their own way, want to be seen as heroes, too. It's a vicious, all-too-common, and, in this case, hilarious cycle.

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